


Christmas Traditions

by Charliem2107



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred is dead, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Christmas, F/M, Happy Ending, Sad Batman, diana is a wonder, dick grayson is a dick, happy tears, mix of canon, sad tears, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charliem2107/pseuds/Charliem2107
Summary: Christmas is a time to be together, to drink and be merry. It is Bruce Wayne’s least favourite holiday.Christmas is a time for families and friends to be together and forget about their troubles. It is vastly becoming Diana Prince’s least favourite holiday.The Wonder and The Bat come together during a difficult time for both of them. It might just become a Christmas tradition.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 89





	Christmas Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this to try and get into the Christmas spirit because I’m just not feeling it this year. But, I ended up making myself a bit sad. But, don’t worry I fixed it.there is a happy ending in there. I promise. Happy tears.
> 
> I have though about writing sequels to this, but have no idea what they would be about. If you get to the end of this and have an idea, feel free to share and I’ll try my best.
> 
> Hope enjoy my first Wonderbat fic x

Bruce pulled his slim-line deep green blazer off of its hanger and wrapped it around his shoulders, over his white dress shirt. His ran his hand down the lines of the suit, first across the jacket, then down the matching trousers. He then double-checked that his sleek leather Oxfords and belt where a matching latte-coloured brown. He checked his appearance in the full-length, oak-framed dress mirror for the fifth and last time. He made sure his phone was housed in his inside breast pocket, along with his house keys. He then walked out of his bedroom and through the dark, cold and draughty Manor House into the old study. It’s walls were lined with row upon row of musky, leather-bound books, torn, well-read paperbacks, ageing first prints and stacks of new releases waiting for their turn. He approached the imposing, chocolate-brown desk and drifted around it, stopping in front of the oak grandfather clock with swinging, broken hands. Bruce set the hands to 10:48 and the clock creaked as it moved slightly to the left. He gently manoeuvred the clock to reveal the hole in the wall that lead to the dark, uninviting cave. The same cave that had become Bruce’s more regular habitat in the recent months. He moved through the darkness and headed towards the built-in zeta-tube as the clock slide closed behind him.

Tonight was the night of the Justice League Christmas Eve Party. Expected for founding members to attend and to dress festively - which Bruce loathed. Therefore, he did the absolute minimum, wearing a sleek leaf-green suit, while Clark undoubtedly wore a hideously unattractive Christmas jumper and Barry light-up reindeer antlers. He would endure Hal’s teasing about him looking like a sad-looking Christmas tree, as long as it meant he looked like a normal, professional human being.

-

Diana simmered with excitement. Before she came to man’s world, after being banished from Themyscira, she had never celebrated the holiday before. She loved each Christmas with as much joy and enthusiasm as a child discovering Santa had left gifts for the first time. The first snowfall was dazzling in her eyes. Snowmen were delicate pieces of art. Snowball fights we’re absolutely essential. But the novelty had worn off. She used to bubble with excitement. Diana soon came to learn that it wasn’t snow that made Christmas special, it was those around her. But most of those important to her were hidden on an island buried in the Mediterranean. However, there were others that were important too. So, she smiled tightly, rubbing her lips together to fill out her red lipstick and caressed her neatly manicured hands over her crimson gown, teasing out the wrinkles. She adjusted the small Santa hat perched carefully on the crown of her raven locks, slung a black, knitted scarf through her arms and over her shoulders. Diana strode through the French windows that led to her iron-railed balcony. She gently rose into the sky and her black, patent heels dangled from her toes, clinging for dear life. She kicked off on nothing and flew towards the Watchtower.

-

The Founders Hall buzzed. Usually grey walls were draped in red and silver tinsel. Gold-painted wreaths, dressed with leaves, twigs and acorns lined the room at sporadic intervals. In the centre of the usually intimidating hall was an equally dwarfing fir tree. The 10 foot incarnation of Christmas stood proudly, clothed in chains of red and gold beads, multi-coloured baubles and cascading lights that twinkled like the stars the tree stared out at.

The tree worked much like a campfire. Heroes, young, old, new and experienced, surrounded it. They were gathered in small clusters, everyone talking animatedly about anything and everything. Each had brought family - J’onn with M’gann, Barry with Jay and Iris, Hal with Carol, Shayera with Carter and Clark with Lois and Conner - each in the little groups they had made with the other heroes. 

The Martian Manhunter looked relaxed wearing his natural green skin, but stood poised, intently listening to the Titans that had shown him about the life of human teenagers. Nightwing hadn’t made an appearance, of course. The Flash, Green Lantern and Hawkgirl swapped mission stories with Barry’s predecessor. GL competing in healthy competition to highlight Flash’s notorious mission mishaps and embarrassing eating habits. Diana stood with the Lane-Kents, half-listening to Lois who raved about several Metropolis officials doing something Diana didn’t care about. Like she did every so often, she let her gaze drift away from Lois and Clark to the opposite side of the hall. To a dark corner, shrouded in shadow, unlit by lights or tinsel. There Bruce lent against the wall, face impossibly blank and head hanging forward staring intensely at the floor that was thinly coated with fake snow. His left hand was nestled in his trouser pocket while his right cradled a tumbler of neat, smoky whiskey.

Chatter continued to fill the hall, but it was all white noise to Bruce. At that moment the liquor was the only thing in the world - it was Christmas, Bruce could treat himself to something other than ginger beer. Soon enough, though, the white noise was interrupted. The room burst with music, Mariah Carey roaring through the Founders Hall. Clearly, the teenagers had hijacked the tannoy. Bruce felt like he was suffocating, drowning in Christmas and he couldn’t take it. He placed the glass on a nearby table and walked out. Diana followed him 

-

Bruce stood on the viewing platform, leant against the glinting titanium railing. Underneath was stillness. With the entire League at the party or on patrol, the monitor womb below was empty. Silent. In front of him was blackness. The observation platform was designed to help visually identify incoming threats from space if the scanners failed. Therefore, the entire port side of the space station was lined with thick windows. But as the station slowly rotated, its own orbit complementing the Earth’s, the blue planet stayed in view; hanging in the inky black as distant stars blinked. Alone. And Bruce just stared at her.

Diana saw him hunched over, looking out of the window. She approached him slowly, entering from to sliding doors behind him, but made her presence known by emphasising the clap of her wine-glass stem heels. “You shouldn’t let Hal get to you. Even if you do look like a sad Christmas tree, you’re a very handsome one at that,” she lightly teased while admiring his strong, muscular figure wrapped with olive cloth. As he didn’t answer she continued her approach, coming to rest next to him, copying his stooped posture with her arms on the railing, staring at their home world.

“I hate Christmas,” he said blandly. Diana kept quiet. Even if Bruce didn’t want to talk he definitely needed to, if the stony set of his profile and the intense clenching of his sharp, clean-shaven jaw was any indication. “Halloween you can pretend to be someone else; forget who you are for a while. Valentines you can sleep with a stranger; kid yourself into thinking you can love. But Christmas, the holiday designed to be spent with others, won’t let me forget how alone I am.”

Diana looped her hands through Bruce bent arm and rested her head on his sturdy shoulder, continuing to gaze into space. “I miss Alfred too.” Bruce then leant his own head against Diana’s and she felt a few stray tears leak into her hair. “You’re not alone, Bruce.”

He mutely scoffed in disbelief, “I surround myself with brainless sycophants, some of the most meaningful people in my life are my employees, those I call my friends are all to happy to surround themselves with everyone but me and,” he choked, “I have no one else left.”

“What about Dick?” She asked softly.

“The Prodigal Son,” he stated bitterly. “He hasn’t spoken to me since Jason died. Barbara hasn’t either - out of loyalty to Dick, I suppose. Alfred’s funeral was the first time I’d seen them for three years, but they didn’t stay long,” Bruce inhaled a shaky breath and let out the closest thing to a sob that Diana had ever heard from him, “He hates me so much, he couldn’t even help me bury my father.”

She turned enveloping him in her arms, wrapping him safely in loving warmth. It was incongruous with the image of Batman- large, intimidating, dangerous - as well as with the image of Bruce Wayne - professional, debonair, striking. He felt small in her arms at that moment as he wept. It broke her heart.

She soothingly carded her fingers through his short, black hair and caressed his shoulders with her other hand. “You. Are. Not. Alone. Bruce. At the very least you can lean on me. I know how feel.”

He pulled back from her embrace slowly and stared into the blue gems that were her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Diana. I should’ve realised.” He tenderly caressed her rose-tinted cheek. She wrapped a delicate hand, that could crush mountains, around his wrist and stroked his pulse with her thumb.

“It’s okay. I’ve had my own losses. But, not like yours. I have no idea what it’s like to have to say goodbye to parent or child like that.” She smile warmly, reassuringly. “I’m here, if you need me.”

“And, I’m here, if you need me,” he returned her smile despite his red-rimmed eyes. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Watching TV, in my pyjamas, eating mince pies covered in cream.”

He chuckled at her serious tone. “Come to the Manor. You can wear your pyjamas and bring all the mince pies you want.”

“I’d be happy to.”

-

“What are you wearing?” Diana asked indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest as Bruce opened the front door of the Manor.

“Clothes?” Bruce wasn’t sure why that came out as a question, because it was true. He was, in fact, wearing clothes. But he was pretty sure it needed to come out as that.

“I thought we were wearing pyjamas.” Diana was wearing pyjamas. A onesie, to be specific - a panda onesie with small, black ears on it’s hood and a cute, round tail on the back.

“You are wearing pyjamas. I am wearing jeans and a sweater.” He stepped aside, holding the large oak door open for the Amazon princess to step inside.

“It’s Christmas. We’re wearing pyjamas. Go change.” They entered into an intense staring match. Both Bruce and Diana renowned for astounding patience. It should have been evenly -

“Fine,” Bruce conceding, throwing his hands in the air weakly. He wasn’t that put out by having to get changed. Diana grinned victorious. As he made he way up the winding staircase he turned to Diana and pointed off to the side, “The living room’s just through there. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be down is a second.”

Diana sauntered victorious into the living room, methodically placing her rucksack on the coffee table and collapsed onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions.

After a few moments, Bruce entered the living room looking moderately sheepish, and dare Diana say, shy. Diana promptly burst into girlish giggles as Bruce stood in the doorway with hunched shoulders wearing red and black checked, flannel trousers, a purple Gotham Knights hooded jumper and fluffy Christmas socks.

“If you’re just going to sit there a laugh I’m going to put on my jeans.” Bruce turned to head back upstairs to his bedroom when Diana grabbed his upper arm, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze.

“No, Bruce. Wait. You look fine. I’m just used to you wearing more black and some pointy ears or well-tailored suits. I’ve never seen you looking so comfy before.”

“Well, I do have a good tailor.”

Diana snorted and grabbed Bruce’s hand, leading him to the couch so they could flop down and swim in the cushions together. “I brought some things with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. What have you got?”

Diana reached for her canvas bag and pulled out a big Tupperware box, a few plastic cases and two small cardboard cartons, “Mince pies, obviously. Christmas movies - don’t pout, they’re a must. A deck of cards and Uno.” She placed each item on the table in turn.

“Someone came prepared,” Bruce smirked.

“Not one to outshine The Batman but, yes. I did.” Diana was smug. She was being smug.

“Well you brought dessert, so I’ve prepared dinner.”

“You cooked?”

Bruce smiled; now he was being smug, “I did. Alfred would -“ he faltered, as did his smile.

Diana gently stoked her hand up his arms and across his shoulders comfortingly. She smiled tightly, “Dinner sounds lovely, Bruce.”

“Right!” He exclaimed and jumped from his seat. Diana’s smile evolved into a grin at her friend’s new found exuberance. He held his hand for her to take to help her from the sofa, “Come on, let’s eat.”

-

After a hearty Christmas lunch, Bruce and Diana collapsed into the sofa again. “Bruce that was amazing. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“You honestly think I was raised by Alfred and he didn’t teach me how to cook?” Bruce asked incredulously.

“Well, I’ve never seen you cook.”

“Just because I didn’t, doesn’t mean I couldn’t.”

“Fair enough. What were those little sausages?”

“Wrapped in bacon?” Diana nodded. “Pigs in blankets.”

“Those were amazing. Want to watch a movie?”

“I’d love to.”

-

Bruce and Diana spent hours nestled in the overly large, plush couch, continuously sinking further into the waves of cushions. They lazily watched movie after movie, his legs stretched onto the coffee table, her’s curled under her on the sofa. His right arm resting across the straight back of the sofa, her right hand lazily lounging across Bruce’s well muscled chest that was currently encased in soft cotton. His head was slightly inclined resting on that same sofa back, while her’s was carefully placed on his shoulder, her hair caressing his neck, as they fit together like two connecting pieces of a jigsaw.

As they continued idly watching Love, Actually, they fell asleep tangled together.

-

Bruce awoke groggily, batting away sleep by blinking rapidly. They were enveloped in grey darkness. The TV had stopped playing at some point, obviously coming to the end of the movie. He moved minutely and Diana stirred. She sighed deeply, either willing herself back to sleep or to wake up. It became the latter as she continued to blink much like Bruce.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake,” he whispered into her ear.

“‘s fine,” she slurred drowsily, absently burrowing her head further into Bruce’s shoulder. He chuckled warmly, unconsciously wrapping the princess in his arms and drawing her closer into his chest.

“I have a present for you,” Diana murmured into Bruce’s collar bone. She then reached into the front pocket of her onesie to reveal a green and white sprig, which she held above their heads.

“Now, how did I miss that?”

“I distracted you with my amazing panda onesie.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” she stated, “Now, come a get your present.” She started to move forward but was stopped as Bruce held her firmly, despite knowing full well he couldn’t really stop her, even if he tried.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his face a heartbreaking mixture of tenderness, loneliness and bone deep, vulnerable love. She rolled her eyes fondly, completely born out of her own love for her ridiculous Batman, and continued her journey forward. Their lips met in the gentlest of touches, both seemingly scared that the other might break. They gingerly reached up to cup each other’s cheeks, mirroring each other as they stroked their thumbs under the others’ eyes. The room was silent, save for the desperate breathing through their noses as they refused to break from their perfect embrace. But, Bruce did break away, continuing to twirl his hand in her wavy, ebony locks.

“I have something for you, too.”

“Bruce, you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he assured her, “but I wanted to.” Mimicking Diana, Bruce reached into the pouch pocket of his hoodie and pulled out an emerald velvet box and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Alfred left this to me. When I was a kid, he used to tell me the story of the person he was going to give this to. He said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He said she was like a princess. But, she went missing before he could give it to her and then he came to work for my father. Anyway, he told me to give this to someone special,” he paused and looked deep into her sapphire eyes, to see tears threatening to spill from them. “Diana, I think I’ve found my princess.” He thumbed open the velvet box to reveal a 45-year-old silver band with a small diamond perched in a finely latticed cradle at its apex. It wasn’t extravagant in the way one expected from a billionaire, but it held the sentimentality Diana learned to expect from Bruce. This ring was a treasure. It was perfect. “I know I’m doing this backwards - considering we haven’t even been on a date yet. But, Princess, will you marry me?”

Those tears that filled Diana’s eyes began to spill over, cascading down her golden, Mediterranean skin like a perfect blue waterfall. She huffed a fond laugh and began to caress Bruce’s cheek again, “It only took you five years.” And Bruce joined her in her soft snickering. He delicately slipped the engagement ring onto Diana’s slender ring finger, and captured her rose lips in his. An immensely loving caress and infinitely more.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips, “for not letting me be alone anymore.”

She lent her forehead against his, both warm to the touch, a gesture so small it was overwhelmingly affectionate, “I’m never going to let you feel like that again. You never have to be alone to be Batman.”

He then expertly rose from the couch, still ignoring the TV dimly flickering in the cornering as his world shrank to Diana, who wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms across his broad shoulders. He began to walk from the living room and up the stairs. Despite the whole house being devoid of any seasonal decoration, at that moment Bruce felt extremely festive and grateful as he cradled Diana’s thighs in his hands.

“Merry Christmas, Diana,” he breathed.

“Merry Christmas, Bruce,” she purred.


End file.
